


birds of a feather

by fatiguedfern



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Again, Angst, Character Study, Gen, Introspection, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 14:18:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11163621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatiguedfern/pseuds/fatiguedfern
Summary: Liars tend to recognize their own.





	birds of a feather

Kaede had been burdened with the crushing weight of other’s expectations from a young age; its gilded tethers looping around her neck and promising to string her up from her waning pride one day. She’d grown accustomed to the sweet lies and welcome half-truths she’d so carefully woven being received without a doubt; become so resigned to the added bulk of the swarms surrounding her’s expected suppositions awaiting fulfillment, honest or not.

Some days are better than others, though. Some days she’s able to revel in their delight and others she silently wishes that they’d choke on the saccharine deceits she feeds them right along with her.

;

“Was it hard learning how to play?” her childhood friends had asked.

“Yes, very. It took hours of practice,” she’d replied, a prideful grin plastered to her face. She hadn’t added that she’d rather spend days running her fingers across piano keys than listen to their mindless chattering. She _definitely_ hadn’t added that coaxing melodies from the instrument had come as naturally to her as coaxing them into unwitting submission beneath her leadership.

;

She’s reminded of why, even when younger and supposedly filterless, she’d never been entirely truthful as she watches the detective’s shy smile brim with trust and admiration. It leads to the same fluttering in her heart that she’d experienced whenever her teachers would sign her progress rapports with “hardworking”, spawning the same guilt-tinged satisfaction. And despite the circumstances, Kaede goes on doing what she always does; grinding out lies through clenched, deceptively white teeth.

She becomes a leader again and it’s all she can do to hope that she doesn’t lead the group to their deaths and offer them platitudes that she’d repeated to herself a few too many times at this stage. 

“We’ll all be friends after this. We’ll all get out of here together. We’ll all be _alive_.”

She inspects the room to gauge her audience’s reaction and, to her relief, a large fraction of the following seems to believe her and maybe if they all could, just maybe, she could believe her own promises. Her gaze lingers on the dictator’s sharp eyes. At first he appears to be almost enthusiastic and then his gaze sours; spoils as quickly as milk on a summer day.

 _lies lies lies_ his wide, innocent eyes accuse.

 _truth truth truth_ her eyes, alight with a hope that she’d long since thought rescinded, correct.

;

It takes all of two days before she’s forced to swallow her broken promises. She spends the entirety of the previous night sketching out a crudely drawn layout of the library.

The morning announcement comes and passes and Kaede makes her way to the cafeteria, expecting to arrive first. To her surprise (and horror), she isn’t the first to arrive. 

Ouma is seated at the cafeteria’s table with the grace of a boy-king atop his toy throne, his mocking tongue at the ready. Her heart hangs low while she does her best to walk tall. Ouma was certainly not the best solitary company. Not today.

“Good morning, Akamatsu-chan!” 

“Morning.” She cringes at her mimicking of Ouma’s synthetic enthusiasm. 

Reluctantly, she takes a seat across from him. Ouma stabs at his bowl with his chopsticks with a mixture of deliberation and boredom coating his movements.

“Akamatsu-chan turned out to be a better leader than I thought.” The complement is underhanded and Kaede’s left more confused than anything else as she’s left to wonder if it’s another one of the boy’s lies. But then again, Ouma’s lies never seemed to be just that. More of a mix of bitter truths that no one was willing to accept with the occasional white lie thrown in. If anything, Kaede envied his well-concealed honesty. 

“Oh, thank you?”

They lapse into a relieved silence and Kaede takes the time to ease her guilt-ridden mind.

“Do you really think that we’ll all live through this?”

She wants to give him the answer he’d probably already pieced together, wants so desperately to give an answer that she can believe without any doubt rearing its unwanted head, but that in itself would be admitting defeat. “Of course. No one here will commit murder.”

Ouma cocks his head to the side,“Really? Not even when some of our dear classmates have already confessed to being cold hearted killers?”

Kaede thinks of the crude floorplans stuffed under her mattress and her voice wavers slightly as she says, “No one will die.” _except the mastermind_

“Well, if our prized leader says so, it must be true!”

But despite his words, Ouma watches her carefully from across the table.

 _lies lies lies_ his keen eyes accuse.

 _truth truth truth_ she pleads in turn. 

And before their silent exchange can continue, the rest of the class trickles in. Kaede inhales deeply, preparing herself to filthy the air with more of her exhaled lies.

;

“You weren’t uninteresting at all,” Ouma blubbers through crocodile tears, yet again leaving Kaede to wonder the validity of his utterances. 

She doesn’t hate him for confusing her in what’s likely her last moments alive, though. Just like she doesn’t hate Saihara for making her pry her own death sentence from his lips, or Amami for having too soft a skull, or Chabashira and Momota and Gokuhara for simply just not being able to do enough, or Monokuma for smashing his gavel into the red button or her own deft fingers finally failing her as they slipped from Saihara’s grasp. 

It’s odd how it ended up not being the expectations of others that had finally tightened the noose around her neck, but rather the deception it had breeded. But now, at the very least, she’d be free of both. 

“I-I believe in you all,” she’d stuttered out before being dragged away. She hopes that it’d be enough as she commits every last one of their faces to her soon to be short-lived memory. Her eyes skip over Saihara’s as guilt pools in her heaving stomach and land on Ouma’s.

 _lies lies lies?_ his doll-like eyes question.

 _lies lies lies._ she agrees.


End file.
